


What We Bring With Us

by still_lycoris



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Gen, Introspection, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14066820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Strange thinks about living with Morse.





	What We Bring With Us

When people asked Strange what it was like sharing a house with Morse, they tended to assume it was bad. They generally mentioned Morse’s prickliness and fastidiousness and looked amazed when Strange said that they rubbed along all right. 

It really wasn’t a problem though, he wasn’t lying. He’d expected it all so it wasn’t a surprise when Morse tried to coax him into listening to some overdramatic music or complained about the beer situation (Strange didn’t buy the beer any more. It was easier that way.) He didn’t think that Morse was surprised when they argued over television or Morse’s habit of getting distracted and leaving mugs and glasses in unlikely places. 

The only thing that was a surprise were the nightmares.

They didn’t happen every night, at least, Strange didn’t think they did. It wasn’t exactly Morse was loud but there was something ... carrying about his level of distress, something that he couldn’t miss even when their doors were closed.

Strange had no idea what they were about. He didn’t think that Morse knew either. He had sort of asked, in a roundabout way one morning and Morse had looked blank, as though he didn’t remember. Maybe he just wouldn’t talk about it but maybe he really didn’t. He rarely seemed to come fully awake, even when Strange shook him quite hard. Quite often, he would just open his eyes part way, look at Strange and then settle again. Sometimes, he would sit right up and grab at Strange’s arms, sometimes just for a moment, sometimes for longer. Once, he looked him right in the face.

“Is it here? Is it _here?!_ ”

Maybe Strange should have asked then but he didn’t. He couldn’t, not when Morse sounded like that.

“Nothing here but us, matey,” he said gently and Morse blinked, then settled down again, like nothing had happened.

Maybe it was normal that he had bad dreams. God knew Morse had seen some stuff while they’d been working together. Strange had seen it too but things did seem to target Morse in a way that they didn’t him. And Morse _thought_ about stuff all the time, turning it over and mixing it up and making it real again. 

Sometimes, Strange wondered if the reason Morse liked his music so much was that the thoughts in his head needed to be drowned out.


End file.
